


Habitable Zone

by renardroi



Category: Wolf 359 (Radio)
Genre: Alien Clone Warren Kepler, Blood and Injury, Dissociation, Gen, He's Very Very Alone, Post-Canon, Rating/Tags/Warnings May Change Because I Haven't Planned This
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-24
Updated: 2018-08-18
Packaged: 2019-05-27 15:09:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 2,963
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15027317
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/renardroi/pseuds/renardroi
Summary: Kepler's body burns up in Wolf 359, a perfect recreation is spat out of some other red dwarf, and he is very much alone. Plus, exoplanets, aggressive tactical dissociation, gale force winds, and a one man civilization.





	1. Log 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> birth.

 

 

Log 1 - ?̶̧̡̡̨̡̧̡̨̧̛̯̰̠̭̠̼̻̦̺̬̼͈͙̹̥̠̩̖͍̳̻͚̗̱̭̪̩̘̱̥̍͐̉͂͑̆̄́̋̆͂͑̄̀͛̿̾͒͆̇̿̂́̑̿́̓́̊̎̂̓̀̃̔̌͌͒̏̈́̑̿̉̔̑̄̇̄́̓͗̆̌̏̀̏͂͛̐͂͊̌̽͋̓̔͛̐̓͐̓̈͒̓͌͘̚̚͘̕̚̕͘͜͜͝͠͝͝͝͝͠͠͝ͅǎ̵̢̢͙̳͖͇͕͎̤̰̯̹͈͇͓͈̰͕̙͚̪̫̻̜̠̅̋̉̓͒̉̿̂̓̆̓͆̆̋̓̓͐̊̌͌̉̈́̽̍̎̄͐̊̊̓͂̐̐̿̃̈́̽̈́̇̉̓̾̉͆̾͗͐͌̈͆̚͘͘̕͝͝y̶̢̛̛̞̖̲̹͈̖̻̯̫͓̩̠̱̺̬̝̗͚̪͎͖̓͊͋̓̏̈́̓̾͌̉̾̌̓̉͒͐̔̋̊͆͌̏̽̌̅̈̈͆͊̊̓̾̓͛͋́̌̃͂́̈́͋̏̈͒͌̑͑́̉̋͘͘͘̚͘̕͘̚͝͠͝͝͝͠͝͝ ̴̢̧̨̳͉͇̮̟͕̜̠̭͔̟̬͙͔̖͙̭̦̲̳̋͑̃̅̌̇̊̑̇̉͛͑̅̐̈̽͌͂̉̅̋̃͌̊̋̆͊͒̔̀̅̂̌̄̂̍͑̀̿͗͑̓͆̽̇͊̓̑̋̌͆̅̊̆̎̀̐̇̇̍̄͌̐̓͆̚̚̕͝͝͝͝͠?̸̨̢̜͙̖̟̘̥̹̤͖̖͈̣͍͍̺͚̤͔͗̃̊̓̎̌̈́̀͂̓͑̂͒̑̊̿̏̈́̽̔̏͛̍̏̽̒̉͐͌̑͆͗̒̌̃̽̔́̅̊͋̐̂̓̉̈̈́͂̎͆̽͆́́̿̓͒̂̉̑̌͊͘͘͜͠͠͠͠͠͝ͅ3̸̛͓͈̣͔̬̖̱̰̲̠̮͚̃͛̅̊͋̓͒̉͑̀̂̀̎̅̃̅́̂̑͑̓̑͋͆̈́̄̂̿̄̓̆̑̿͗̈́͆̎̓́̾̽̚̚͜͜͝͝͝͝ͅ1̷̨̡̨̨̧̨̭̼̳̫̣̤̦͔͎͕͉̥͙͖͖̜̱̬̼͓̲͕̦͈͕̘̬̱̗̗͈̰͓͖̹̥̬͓͙̺̬̹̜̟̠͇̦͓̞̠͎̤͉̯̫̓͆͊̄̎͑̈̑̀̍̐͌̽͐̓̆̓̚͜͜͜͠͝ͅ ̶̢̡̛̛͍̻̰̘̹̰̠̻̬̹̱͚̖̗̩̹̥̰̙̹͖͕̺̱̭̪͉̥̞͕̹̞̙̭̰͗̊̒̍̃͆̀̀͑̍̂́̾͑͒̆̌̀͂͆͜͠͠ͅ

[̶̡̏̕A̷͇̐̿ ̵͎̓̈́G̵̯̻̿A̸̩̽S̶̩̑P̵͔]̴̪̭̃

̵̜̬̾.̸̺̈́.̶̨͙͆̾.̷̺͊̇

̷̧̺͌͝

̸[̷H̵E̵A̴V̷Y̷ ̸B̸R̷E̸A̷T̴H̷I̸N̷G̴]̸

̴

̵K̵E̴P̶L̸E̸R̶:̷ ̸Damn...

̷

End Log 1.

 

* * *

 

Kepler falls into Wolf 359 and feels every atom of his being burned and pulled apart. It's not painful, and if he feels anything it's relief, but the fact of the matter is that he does feels the heat of the star long after he's dead and that's how he knows it's a lie. 

The memories he holds onto are not his. 

Something to think about later. 

The pressing problem is that the conjured ship that once belonged to Lovelace has several alarms screeching their impending doom at him. As he lives again for the first time, and takes stock of his surroundings, he realizes several things in quick procession. 

One - he is hurtling away from the red star at a speed this vessel is entirely incapable of. Two - the loudest and angriest little alarm is an imminent collision warning, which must be for the massive, round, terrestrial object before him. Between the swathes of white and grey clouds, he can see red and brown and pitch black on the surface. Three - he has no idea where he is. 

And four - he doesn't care. 

He leans back in Lovelace's chair - his chair, this is not her vessel - and admires the accuracy with which Kepler's body has been recreated. Small sworls of burn scars, the ache in his wrist, and more. They do not belong to him and yet he has them. Like a thief in the night, an interstellar being plucked traits and memories from a dead man and bestowed them upon him, with no clear indication of having a motive other than because they can. 

He hates it. 

He isn't Kepler and he would never claim to be, not that he cares about insulting the memory of a dead man, but if he isn't Kepler then who is he?

He considers it while he and the ship crumple like aluminum foil against the surface of a planet he doesn't recognize. 


	2. Log 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> death.

Loģ̵̥̳͍̇̎̐͊͛̇̿́͑͌̋̇͘̕ 2 - Dคץ ???4 9

[STATIC FOR EXACTLY: 22.56.333ss̶̭̝̝̻̳̅̈s̷͎̝̍̀͋e̶͇̘͒̍̓͗͘ë̴͍́e̵̡̟̩̱͈̓ ̵̝̺̔̏͠-̴̼͎̇̇̃͜͜ ̵̢̨̻͕̫̅͑̈́̓-̵̢̙̬͙̍̀͘]̷̛͖̖̠̱̘͂̑̈

...

[QUIET MECHANICAL HISS]

COMPUTER: Oxyge̶͇̘͒̍̓͗͘ë̴͍́e̸̠̻̠͖̹̫̅͐̊͗̏̍̓̑͊̕̕̚ͅe̴̜̞̜̹͍̘̭͎̪̊̾̓̓̽̏͆̎̓̕͘͜ ̴̨̗͕̼̺̦̲͈̻̻̯͇̽̊̄̅̆̎̆̽͋̉̚ ̷̛̼͈̲̣̰̗̫͖̘̋̔͂̒͆͆̕͘̕̕͝n̷͍͒͛͊ saturation at %̸͎̈̂̇͜1̵̹͔̈́3̵̭͈̊͠!̸͓̫̌͐̓̈*̸̝̝̟̇

KEPLER: Quiet, please. 

...

KEPLER: Okay. Report.

[AN ERUPTION OF NOISE FROM ONBOARD SYSTEMS]

[MUFFLE̸D̸ ̸C̸Ư̴͚͉̫̍̾R̸̥̭̩̊̅S̸̭̺̆́͋̿̑̚͘I̷͕̦̭͊̊̓͌̄͆N̴͇̝̳̳̰͚͔͒̔̄͝Ģ̶̣̳̬͔̝̘̖̮̈́̈́̈́]̷̡̢̯͍̩̪͔̤̗̤̄̽͑͊̅̽͋̄͘

 

End Log 2.

 

* * *

 

The vessel is half buried in the earth, its metal components shredded and folded like paper. The computer is trashed, limping along as best as it can. Warren fares similarly, at least until an event, which he can only assume is the red dwarf flaring to life.

He can see a sliver of the sky through the torn open spaceship. It looks like it might be dusk, with a handsome red haze filtering through the grey fog, but it's hard to tell what time it really is or if it's comparable to any recognizable day cycle. It feels like he's trapped in the ship for hours before the red is penetrated by brilliant lines of green and pink and blue, just visible beyond the fog. 

His bones stitch back together while he struggles to control his breathing, and in the corner of an absolutely trashed computer screen he sees an icon flicker. He curses and a few moments later it turns off again. 

If he were Kepler or human, perhaps the climb out of his ship could be described as hellish or traumatizing, dragging himself through razor sharp metal and then waiting for the star to fix him, but he isn't Kepler. The sun neither sets nor rises, and his only companions are the computer in its death throes commenting on the local environment in its distorted, automated voice, and the constant howling wind. 

Catching a glimpse of a shadow through the hole in his ship doesn't bother him, because it's easy to explain away with the odd weather. The acrid smell of blood clogging the frigid air doesn't bother him, because he knows he's not in true danger. The electric pop of another part of the ship failing doesn't bother him. Warren has to focus on the task at hand - there's no space for panic while he ignores the jagged metal in his side and clambers out of the ship and into a storm. 

Outside, much of the wind is blocked by the bent form of one of the stabilizers, but it's still a force to be reckoned with. It finds purchase in the holes of his clothing and leeches the warmth from his body before he can take his first deep breath on this entirely alien planet. He stumbles across the dark earth to take cover against the stabilizer and from there he finally gets a good look at his surroundings. 

He can't see the sun from this position, but rocky outcroppings nearby and the ship, even while buried, cast long shadows that are visible against the patchy brown and black ground. The patches of black are...fascinating. They look like plants almost. There's a variety of them sprouting out of earth as hard as rock, a few that look like creeping jenny but with the fleshy, echeverian leaves, and others that are clusters of short, boxy stalks that don't seem to get taller than the length of his hand. 

Everything is black. Or close to it. Shades of charcoal. Even the tree-like structures that are looming in the distance have massive, imposing leaves that appear to be pitch black. They look like they've been cut out of the red sky. 

Not an inviting view. 

It's not the interior of a spaceship, however. If he keeps his eyes on the horizon, then there are no circuits, no sheets of riveted metal, no clanging, or whispering, or weapons. He can't sink his fingers into dirt but it's so different from the interior of a spaceship that it's borderline euphoric. Warren sits in the shadow of his ship and breathes deeply of the fresh air until he sees the shadow of a large moon rise in front of the sun and continue upward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im hoping if i keep chapters short theyll be less scary to write


	3. Log 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> water.

Log 3 - Da̛͢y͟ ̴͢͜[͏E͟R͡Ŗ҉̢OR: SEE INTERNAL CRASH LOG #1434.324]

...

KEPLER: Alright. The computer's internal clock is still set to a twenty-four hour cycle, but the original starting time and...most of the tracking data has been corrupted or lost because of the trip through Wolf 359. And it's...wreaking havoc. On every other system. 

.̷҉.̵̧͢͢͟.̷̧͡

[̧͢͞͠Ş͡I̶͢G̵̡H̛̕͢]̵̸͝͝  
̸  
̷͢͠͝͠K̨E̷̷̛͘P͢҉͡͡Ļ͝E̶͘͜͟R̢̧͘͜:̧͘̕͝͡ ̵̢҉̴T̡͘͠h̵̸̷͘e͞ ̵p̨̕͘͘ļ̶͘͏͠a҉̴̢n̵e̶͏ţ̧͢ h͢a̢s̴ a͟t͞͝ ̧l̛̕e͘a̴̵s͝t͘ ̨҉o̡ne moon. After...approximately 80 hours of observation, it appears to have a twenty-six hour orbit. Once the computer's online, I'll be able to get a more accurate estimate, so I'm going to reset it. 

[QUIET BEEP]

KEPLER: Navigational data will be lost. The computer wouldn't be able to find itself out here anyways. Hour zero will be set to the next dawn. Moon-rise. The sun doesn't appear to move. If I had to guess...tidal lock. We'll see. Additional notes; apparent plant life, evidence of more complex organisms nearby, rock formations around a mile out may have signs of cave systems which could make a more permanent shelter. End log. 

 

End Log 3. 

 

* * *

 

Warren spends at least a week tearing his hands up on the scrap metal in the ship. Anything that isn't the computer gets dragged to the surface and dumped against the stabilizer. The wind carries a few of the smaller pieces away, but it matters very little. If he builds something here, then he still has a fair amount to work with. There's definitely enough to do repairs if he can manage to get at the tools and if they're intact. 

With no way of knowing what's safe on a strange planet, he avoids trying to stick anything in his mouth for as long as possible. It makes hard labor difficult, but he has time. If he has anything, he has time. He can stop for a few hours, salvage a copy of Lovelace's Goddard-issued jacket, and wander directly into the wind in search of water. 

While food and water aren't _necessary_ anymore, finding them can mean uninterrupted work, and that at least is motivation enough to take a quick look. He walks sunward, towards rocky plateaus that could be shaped by water, or wind, or maybe even both. And he is pursued. 

The shadow that haunts him as he walks blends well into the black plants and rocky earth, long and low to the earth, but unlike Warren it darts across the ground with ease. The wind threatens to knock him over with each step that he takes but the creature that he spots only out of the corner of his eye has no problem hauling itself over rocks and sprinting in bursts. He spends nearly thirty minutes trying to keep to track of it before he realizes it doesn't pose much of a threat. And as soon as he quits paying attention, it disappears. 

Water. He needs to focus on water. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> eyes emoji


	4. Log 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> life.

 

Log 4 - Day 9

[SIGH] 

KEPLER: Water is an issue without a filtration system. The nearby rivers have too much algae. I also stepped into one of the caves - only briefly - to see if they were viable as a shelter. First corridor of the closest opening is approximately three meters wide and two high. Evidence of flooding, along with erosion by the rivers suggests that tidal flooding is significant. 

...

KEPLER: No...communication. No indication as to _what_ - 

...

KEPLER: Awaiting orders. End log. 

 

End Log 4. 

 

* * *

 

The water is black. Not dark, not in shadow. The surface is a roiling pitch black, but protected somewhat from the worst of the wind by the shallow canyon walls. Warren isn't looking forward to climbing back out. It's wider at this part, and the water a bit slower, but there's no way of knowing the depth or what's contained within. 

He briefly considers that the liquid running through here might not be water, but as he kneels he dips his hand into the water, throwing all caution into the wind. And he quickly realizes that the color of the water is coming from the thick layer of...something. It's a grainy slime, and lightly stains his hand as he rubs his fingers together. 

The part in the substance that he made with his hand quickly closes, but he catches a glimpse of the water below. It's still dark, filmy with particles of what he guesses might be an organism filling the same ecological niche as algae, but appears to be water. He's not eager to drink from it, but he feels a touch of curiosity about the world beneath the surface. 

His shadow stops him. It tears itself away from the safety of the creeper plants, where it's perfectly camouflaged, and slides down the side of the canyon with surprising grace. That...gives Warren pause. He'd been tempted to write off the creature as a mild hallucination, a side effect of being isolated on a lonely planet. Apparently not. 

It's solid and real, and odd. Mostly black colored, with patches of brown, and a bit like a long cat or dog or maybe an oversized ferret. Short legs, a long body, and a furry face peering up at him. It's quite nearly cute, with odd black feathers that stick up and mimic the shape of creeper leaves. The aerodynamic shape of it's body and powerful little legs makes it ideal for land travel, but it has wings. 

It's bizarre. 

And it opens its mouth in a soundless scream, showing off jagged, powerful teeth. Warren feels something vaguely like a question pass through his subconscious, but he doesn't quite think it, instead choosing to worry about the thing in front of him and backing off. He takes a step back, still crouched by the bank of the river, but it follows him, sneaking between him and the water. 

This doesn't look like an aquatic creature, but there's no mistaking the defensive posturing, especially when its mouth glows a brilliant pale blue. Warren has no use for the water in its current state, so he steps away entirely, backing up against the canyon wall - and that seems to appease it. 

It relaxes, but it follows him as he climbs back up and makes his way back. 


	5. Log 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lost

Log 5 - Day 10 

[QUIET SCRATCHING SOUND] 

KEPLER: A few things are still salvageable. The water filtration system seems to only have minor issues; severed wires, scattered pieces, things that can be fixed. Much of the rest of life support is trashed, however. Most of the hardware survived the atmosphere - crash data suggests it's fairly robust - but didn't survive impact. 

...

KEPLER: This...makes documentation difficult. The log works, but audio files are going to take up too much of what little memory the computer has left. For now, the computer is creating transcripts that can be saved with very little trouble. Later I'll have to go through the information stored on the computer an get rid of it. Why Lovelace felt the need to stuff this thing full of - audio files? Emails from her crew...the captain was far too sentimental. None of this would have been useful for Goddard. 

KEPLER: I've salvaged a tablet for the purposes of short distance communication with the computer. It seems dying repeatedly has...effects on one's recall. I'll be reporting from the field. Keeping track of poisonous and dangerous species is...

???: ?̸?̷-̴a̷ ̵e̸

[SIGH] 

KEPLER: Water filtration in less than a week. Look for a food source, away from the river, next dawn. Figure out how to get rid of this damn shadow by the end of today. 

KEPLER: End log. 

 

End Log 5. 

 

* * *

 

The creature really is a nuisance. It crawls through the belly of the wreckage and chews on wires, leaves a trail of feathers everywhere, but at least it doesn't make sounds. Besides the bump in the night as it explores, it doesn't bark, howl, yelp, scream or any other vocalization Warren can think of. Or perhaps he just can't hear it. It's not unlikely. The roaring of the wind has effectively deafened him, ears numbed to most sounds. It takes sitting in the relative silence of deeper branches of caves, or pulling the captain's hat down over his ears while sits in the ship cockpit. 

Silence is a rare commodity. And breaking the silence to ramble in the direction of the ship computer, as if he's doing anything other than hoping that speaking will give him some new insight into his affliction of persistent life in this far-flung corner of intergalactic spacetime, feels like sacrilege. It takes him several minutes to find the energy for the task. Most days it's easier to take apart and put together the water filtration system, aimlessly trying to find the broken parts. 

After a couple of days he realizes the only issue is it needs a water source to actually jump-start the system. And that it needs to be in place where the wind won't drag so much debris through it. So he hauls the thing in parts back to the cave. There had been signs of water, there was good reason to believe it could be a reliable source. 

Of course, when he arrives to the caves, they're completely full of water. He can sit at the mouth of the cave and hang his legs over the side of what was a convenient rocky staircase out, and touch the water. 

He considers building a crude drill in order to attach the machinery to the ceiling, or one of the walls. It's fairly compact, wouldn't require too much support, but as he sits he feels the cold and the exhaustion seeping into him. His shadow flutters about anxiously, peering over the rocks and into the water, but refusing to get too close to the edge. It's hard to tell if the creature is worried on Warren's behalf or if it's concerned for itself. Maybe the flooding has disturbed its shelter. 

Tempting fate, Warren sighs and picks the thing up by its scruff, hauling it away from the water and bidding it sit beside him. He figures if he bleeds to death from this alien wolverine's teeth, the worst that can happen is he'll come back. It seems only a little bothered, however, flashing the blue at him in annoyance before realizing that Warren isn't trying to eat it. Then it seems content to sprawl out next to him, tearing feathers from the tip of its tail and leaving them on the cave floor. 

Not very bright then. 

 

* * *

 

The strangest part of having the creature follow him is finding that it's still there even after he...expires a handful of times. It waits for him outside of the cockpit the first time, black feathers fluffed up anxiously as auroras waver across the sky. Not anxious for Warren, however, because the next time it happens he finds the thing curled up in his lap waiting for him, apparently adverse to being outside when there are solar flares. 

Much to Warren's chagrin, he finds himself moving a lot of the wreckage over to the caves, where it seems much more comfortable. He drags a particularly wide piece of scrap metal and uses it to cover part of the entrance, and when he finishes, he realizes that his shadow is gathering creepers up off the ground and hauling them into the cave as well. 

It builds a little nest of feathers and dark plants, and when the moon starts to set, all he can see in the puddles of darkness is the occasional wink of bioluminescence . He calls it Daniel once and only once, immediately regretting it and scrambling for a different name. Something else. Delaney. 

Better. Maybe. 


End file.
